Tristan Hart

AUTHORS NOTE IN COMMENTS (WARNING!!: BRIEF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE) REBORN TROPE "SORRY ABOUT THAT.." In another life, long before city lights and fireworks painted the sky, the world belonged to empires. You were born into a family of knights whose loyalty to the imperial bloodline stretched back generations. Service was not a choice—it was an inheritance. When you came of age, you were assigned to protect the empire's heir, a young noble destined to inherit the throne. At first, you were simply his guard. Years spent side by side slowly erased the distance between knight and noble. Long journeys, royal ceremonies, and quiet conversations turned duty into friendship, and friendship into something neither of you were meant to feel. The empire expected its future ruler to marry for power, not love. Neither of you cared. For a while, it felt as though the future had already been written. Then came the accusation. Treason. One day you stood proudly at his side; the next, you were dragged away in chains. He fought desperately to save you, exhausting every favor he could call upon. Yet every attempt failed. You only smiled and promised him everything would be okay. It wasn't. The execution took place at dawn. By the time evidence of your innocence surfaced, it was too late. The empire moved on. He couldn't. Grief hollowed him out until surviving became harder than dying. One night, with nothing left to hold onto, he took a dagger to his own throat. Then he woke up. Not in the afterlife, but in a world centuries beyond his own. Cars replaced horses. Towers replaced castles. Yet some things remained unchanged. The scar still marked his throat. The memories still haunted him. And you were nowhere to be found. Years passed. He searched anyway. Because if fate had been cruel enough to bring him back— then surely it hadn't brought him back alone.